


Are You Hershey's? Because I'd Like A Kiss

by finnickyfox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Fluff and Humor, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Meet-Cute, No Spooky Scare, Soft Steter, Steter Saw Spooky And Heard Sappy, Steter's Version Of A Meet-Cute, Suspicious To Yearning So Fast It Gives You Whiplash, What Is A Stiles?, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27325159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnickyfox/pseuds/finnickyfox
Summary: Using the Beta shift as a costume among humans is a faux pas and yet, here this idiot werewolf stranger is, doing exactly that. Except maybe there's more to this "werewolf" than meets the eye. Peter's determined to get to the bottom of the mystery before the night ends.—“What are you supposed to be?”Peter slides his gaze away from the strange ‘wolf and faces the pest daring to bother him. He’s done a good job blending into the shadows but the occasional lust-soaked college kid approaches him until he scares them away with judgemental silence.“Clearly,” a cheery voice pipes in, “he’s dressed as the man of my dreams.”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 47
Kudos: 1023





	Are You Hershey's? Because I'd Like A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> A late Halloween one-shot! Pure silliness that has little to do with Halloween and a lot to do with heart-eyed idiots!

Peter watches the Beta across the room. The mass of drunk bodies between them obscures any scent Peter attempts to catch. He itches to close the distance and find out _how_ this werewolf muted his presence.

“Cora,” Peter says under his breath. Wherever his niece is, she’s been ignoring his hissed demands. He wouldn’t put it past her to spitefully keep a strange werewolf a secret to throw Peter off her trail.

It’s not like Peter _wants_ to know his niece’s partying habits. He’s as irritated as she is about Talia forcing him to play babysitter at a disgusting party. It’s unnecessary—Cora is and has been perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Yes, Talia, Peter's aware that the party is off-campus. And filled with strangers from other colleges. And in an unclaimed territory where werewolf law has little say. And some creatures take advantage of Halloween to wreak havoc on human parties. 

Alright, Talia might have made _some_ points about Cora’s safety in question. Peter had agreed to go, assuming he could scope it out quickly and then spend his time sketching new fashion designs in the car. 

He didn’t anticipate that there would be any supernaturals and that if there _was_ one, he didn’t expect a werewolf openly flaunting their nature.

Yes, it’s Halloween, but how could _anyone_ be so fucking dense to come shifted? Creatures like vampires can get away with dressing up as themselves but werewolves doing so is a major faux pas. A Beta shift looks _nothing_ like classic werewolf costumes. 

Heat pools behind Peter's eyes, and he bristles with the need to flash them. It’s the one thing the strange werewolf hasn’t done in the past two hours Peter has been watching him. There are the ridged hairless eyebrows and exaggerated sideburns, the pointed ears and fanged teeth, every little detail aired out in the open—but no eye flashing. Maybe the strange werewolf is sensible enough to not do that party trick. Peter wonders if the 'wolf's eyes bleed blue or gold. He hopes they don’t flash Alpha-red.

An Alpha would make sense for the ability to mask the pull of another werewolf being nearby. Peter wasn’t aware of another ‘wolf until he spotted the stranger. Peter’s watched the strange werewolf dance and talk and break apart the beginnings of something brewing between a few too-drunk kids. The ‘wolf has the air of an Alpha. Maybe a second-in-command. 

Cora _has_ to have known about this idiot or she would be standing with Peter right now, albeit more intrigued than concerned.

“What are you supposed to be?”

Peter slides his gaze away from the strange ‘wolf and faces the pest daring to bother him. He’s done a good job blending into the shadows but the occasional lust-soaked college kid approaches him until he scares them away with judgemental silence.

“Clearly,” a cheery voice pipes in, “he’s dressed as the man of my dreams.”

Peter growls for a second before controlling himself. The zombie-costumed human doesn’t catch the slip-up but the strange ‘wolf does, if his smirk is anything to go by. 

“Oh, Stiles!” Zombie flushes and looks back at Peter. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with him. Um, well,” Zombie glances back at the strange 'wolf, lust turned shy-excitement, “see you later, Stiles. Nice costume, by the way.”

While Zombie scurries away, Peter debates which route to take in dealing with the strange werewolf— _Stiles_.

“I could steal a red cloak for you,” Stiles says. “Be my red riding hood.”

Peter can’t help it. He flashes his eyes at the taunt. The werewolf doesn’t respond in kind, laughing instead. Peter takes a deep breath, searching for nonexistent patience while scenting the air. It’s difficult under all the layers of the room but Peter catches a unique spiciness. The scent is overwhelmed by a heavy outpour of excitement. Peter finds Stiles’ heartbeat under the loud music, racing faster than anyone else’s.

Peter's wolf clambers under his skin, surging at the unspoken challenge. He beats his instincts back, agitated with how wrong his wolf is, acting like this is a game of predator and prey. This boy is anything but prey. No strange werewolf is going to start a game where they’re the prey—it’s more likely a challenge to fight. 

Yet, this _Stiles_ isn’t pompous or arrogant. A little cocky, maybe, but his smirk is more of a grin and the grin is more cheeky than taunting. 

“Wolf got your tongue?” Stiles asks at Peter’s calculating silence. His tongue swipes out to wet his lips and Peter’s traitorous eyes drop to that enticing mouth, slightly parted and—

“You’re not a ‘wolf,” Peter says.

Stiles gasps, slapping a hand over his chest. “I am the most werewolf-y werewolf to ever ‘wolf, dude.” He takes his hand off his chest to snap his wrist in a silly _rawr_ movement. Close up, Peter can see that the claws are fake as well, convincing like the fangs are—but only from a distance. 

Now that he’s looking, Peter sees the prosthetic makeup covering his eyebrows, smells the chemicals of it. The sideburns are a shade too light for his dark brown hair.

Still, it’s unnervingly spot-on for a werewolf. This boy is in the know. The way he carries himself, the way he’s interacted tonight so far—he’s more then _just_ in the know.

The itch of predator after prey surfaces again. Peter shoves it back down, confident that this boy is still very much a predator.

“Impressive,” Peter says. The boy’s grin widens. His face, flushed from the humid air of too many bodies in one room, darkens with a blush. _Interesting_. “Enjoying your night as a ‘wolf?”

Stiles plays along with a shrug that’s not nearly as casual as he aims for. His excitement is so strong Peter can taste it. He’s nearly buzzing with energy. “It has its perks,” he winks, “and it’s fun to dress up for a night.”

_But I prefer being what I am_ goes unsaid.

Peter, for once, cuts through his games and bluntly asks, “What are you?”

The smile he gets is full of arrogant confidence. It’s equal parts danger and mischief and Peter thinks _fox_. “You tell me,” Stiles says. He slips into the crowd before Peter can snatch him. Peter doesn’t dare make his way through the disgusting mass of grinding bodies.

Peter should be thinking of the consequences of whatever game this is but his brain goes hazy with the _need_ to win. 

He slinks through the shadows of the house, into aired out rooms without dancing and the backyard set-up with ping-pong tables.

He tracks Stiles, the way he interacts with people. Peter looks for pieces of pack dynamics. The boy can’t be an Alpha and most likely not a second-in-command—Peter would have heard about a human Second. For a brief moment, he wonders about a pack caretaker. But while he seems to mother-hen a few times, Peter suspects he’s too aloof to be a full-time “pack mom”. Stiles bounces around too many pack positions to fit under one type and he has more power status than a regular Beta has.

No, he’s not a pack human. 

Peter considers other were- types. He slips, “Coyote,” when he passes Stiles by and the boy laughs. Peter didn’t think so—a werecoyote would have flashed their eyes back. He entertains the idea of fox. Fox packs are looser than ‘wolves. They’re a community that likes to settle near each other, but have no official leader. There aren’t many in North America, though some are known to be solitary. 

Peter puts it on the back-burner. He skips through other shifters and dips into the more uncommon. Like kitsunes. That option gets a snort from Stiles and a condescending pat on the shoulder.

Peter picks up the scent of spiciness again. It overlays a sweetness that Peter’s never come across before. He gets distracted comparing different sugary treats to it but none are quite right. Peter wants to sink his teeth into the taste.

Peter comes across Cora at one point, disheveled with a sharp grin Peter has no interest in knowing about. He flips her off and bares his teeth. She rolls her eyes, not even playing at innocent. Peter’s too prideful to go to her for answers, though. 

Not a druid, Peter thinks. Mages aren’t pack-social like Stiles is acting. Then again, Peter gets the sense that Stiles is one-of-a-kind and defies expectations.

It’s alluring and frustrating as hell.

Peter listens to snippets of conversations, finding himself pulled in further by the witty remarks and the beginnings of a rant into the strangest subjects before someone cuts the boy off. Peter always wants to strangle the person. The brief shows of Stiles’ cleverness aren’t enough to satisfy. 

Peter cycles through types of tricksters. Stiles doesn’t have the right edge of cruel indifference. Though, a vicious side of Stiles surfaces in telling off someone coming on too strongly and Peter glimpses that _danger_ again. 

He learns other pieces of information—Stiles transferred this semester to Cora’s college and graduates in the Spring. He’s a few years older than Cora, having taken a few years off before starting college. A girl referenced him as an _older man,_ which made Peter snort. If anyone should be fawned over for age, it should be Peter—not that he’s interested in any immature twenty-somethings. People in their mid-forties, a decade older than him, can’t even keep up with Peter’s wit.

Perhaps Stiles has the same problem, seeing as he’s not dating anyone, something that quite a few people despaired about. 

Peter shakes the irrational jealousy—wanting to win this game is making him _temporarily_ possessive, that’s all. 

Finding a quiet corner in the backyard, Peter watches Stiles play beer pong. Peter recalls what the supernatural community was like six or so years ago, looking for any event that might hint at what diverted Stiles away from starting college after high school.

“Need a hint?” The fangs have been removed since they last spoke.

Peter fights the urge to shake the strange predator-prey for answers. He’d watched the sober boy lose several games of beer pong to tipsy opponents. It’s difficult to tell if it’s natural clumsiness or an overcompensation of bad hand-eye coordination to hide supernatural grace.

“Not at all,” Peter says, plastering on a bland smile. He fakes boredom to save his dignity.

Stiles’ eyes, Peter discovers under the backyard lights, are a luminous brown. In fact, Peter might have mistaken them as Beta gold if the lighting inside had been better. The pretty eyes fall to Peter’s smile and a tiny burst of hurt taints the boy’s scent.

Stiles frowns at Peter’s mouth, not masking his disappointment. His flushed face had faded in the cool evening air, but now the beginnings of a dark blush rise to his pale skin again. It’s nothing like the rosy cheeks Peter’s _impressive_ comment had inspired earlier, no sweet pleasure over praise.

Stiles rubs the back of his neck. Peter gets side-tracked by the bulge of his bicep. “So, uh, this has been fun,” Stiles says. He runs the hand on the back of his neck through his hair, mussing it up, before dropping his arm awkwardly to his side. He exposes the stretch of his neck, tantalizingly so, by pretending to watch the beer pong match going on behind them. “—yeah, yep. Time to leave.”

Peter blinks at the alarming words, dragging his eyes away from the boy’s neck, clueless to how long he’d zoned out. What on earth had Stiles talked about that ended up with having to go? What the hell is wrong with Peter tonight—is he losing his edge?

The rabbit-fast heart falters, slowing down. The scent of excitement fades. Panic engulfs Peter and he’s not thinking when he steps forward into Stiles’ space. All he knows is that his strange predator-prey is escaping and that’s not acceptable.

Stiles tastes like cheap chocolate and blood from lips bitten raw. Peter pulls back from the fairly chaste kiss and licks his lips, catching the lingering taste. He nearly laughs, recognizing the chocolate from one of the bowls of candy—a Hershey’s kiss.

“Incubus?” Peter guesses as a weak excuse.

Stiles bursts into laughter. It’s nothing like the passing chuckles throughout the night at Peter’s wrong guesses. Stiles laughs with his whole body, neck tilted back and shoulders shaking. His knees buckle from the amusement and he stumbles toward Peter. His fake claws dig into Peter’s arms and he presses his forehead to Peter’s shoulder, unsteady with giggles. Every time he starts to quiet, another wave of laughter overcomes him.

Peter would worry about his predator-prey getting enough oxygen but he’s too wrapped up in the heady smell of Stiles right under his nose to think coherently. He ducks his head, intent on burying his face in the boy’s hair, but Stiles lifts his head at the same moment. Their mouths brush.

The hands clutching Peter’s arms move to fist in his v-neck, tugging Peter impossibly closer until their mouths clash forcefully.

Peter’s very much on board with this.

Stiles hasn’t finished laughing, little fits of giggles coming and going in their kissing. Peter surprises himself by laughing back, breaking apart to press his forehead to Stiles’ while he chuckles. He tries to compose himself without a tongue or laughter in his mouth—trying to understand what this is, sweet and fun and nothing like he’s ever experienced before. Innocent in how sincere his excitement is. 

_Need_ wells up in his chest—he can’t let this strange creature escape from him. 

He dips back in for a kiss, capturing the boy’s lower lip into his mouth and letting his teeth sharpen as he sucks. He lets his fangs drag teasingly as he pulls back slowly. 

Two things happen at once: the sweet undertone Peter struggled to catch in Stiles’ scent blossoms and everything goes dark in a series of loud pops.

There’s an instant uproar of _what the hell_ and frightened screaming. Regretfully, Peter steps back, not far with Stiles clutching his shirt still. Peter opens his eyes to take in the broken lightbulbs strung across the backyard. The flashing colors lighting up the inside of the house have gone out in total darkness and the music shut off. 

Peter looks back to Stiles, flashing his wolf eyes for night vision. His predator-prey’s eyes are enormous and mouth slack-jawed. Peter looks back to the house, taking a moment to be a good uncle and locate Cora’s heartbeat—calm. He’s pretty sure that distant laughter is hers. Peter looks back to Stiles’ wide eyes.

“Spark?”

“No,” Stiles says quickly. A harmless shock runs through Peter and the hands in his shirt quickly retreat. Blue, the same electric color as Peter’s eyes, dance across Stiles’ fingertips before being hidden in clenched fists. “That was just—that wasn’t—ugh!” Stiles’ cheeks darken. “You totally cheated.”

Peter hums, feeling very much like the cat that caught the canary. He enjoys his Spark’s blush before letting his eyes fade back to human. “All’s fair in love and war, darling,” Peter purrs. He pushes his racing thoughts on Sparks aside, only indulging in one question. “Do you belong to a pack?”

“I don’t _belong_ to anyone,” Stiles snaps. “But no. I’ve gotten emissary requests, if that’s what you mean. Turned them down.”

Peter hates the sudden turn into sourness. That just won’t do. Lightly, Peter says, “Then no one will mind me stealing you away for some midnight pancakes.”

The little rabbit heart returns. “...pancakes?”

Peter grins in the dark, wickedly pleased. It wasn’t hard to guess his Spark has a sweet tooth. “And some more ‘cheating’, if you’d like.”

“Cheating? Oh. Oh! Yes, yep, very much,” a hand buzzing with small electric shocks wraps around Peter’s wrist and tugs him toward the side gate of the house, “all of the yeses. Totally down. Give me a sharpie to draw a rune on my hand and you can pop out those sexy fangs again, no explosions guaranteed. No non-sexy explosions. Sexy explosions are very welcome.”

Peter doesn’t think he’s ever had a night so full of laughter. From inside the house, he hears Cora whisper-hiss that Stiles was supposed to be a _distraction_ , not someone to ditch her over.

Peter ignores her—he’s got a long game of lure and catch to plan out. As they pass the front of the house, he snatches a handful of kisses out of the candy bowl outside the front door. “For the pancakes,” Peter explains.

“Dude. Peter,” and _oh_ , that sounds _lovely_ , “if you keep this up, I’m going to fall in love with you.”

“Well, I _did_ dress up as the man of your dreams. It’s only fair that I carry out that promise.”

The shock that runs up Peter’s arm is painful but oh so worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll never tire of Spark Stiles exploding things from a simple kiss. This is the first completed one shot I've written in awhile and I wrote it with absolutely no plan in mind for where it was going but I hope it still ended up being enjoyable!
> 
> Usually I'll add the tags here I put for tumblr drabbles but I am too tired tonight and will do that tomorrow. Though for now I MUST say, PETER YOU FUCKING NERD WITH THE PANCAKES. love that soft idiot. peter: fuck i have made a mistake. again. kiss it better? wait no he's mad about ppl wanting him for what he is. ok how to make the love of my life know i want him and am not seducing him for his power. fuck, uh pancakes????  
> Ok it is later and I am back: Here are the tags  
> #peter: i dont date twenty-somethinggs #stiles: *appears* #peter: i date one (1) twenty-something #cora: hey YOU like fucking with scary ppl and my uncle IS scary ppl soooo you should come to the party #stiles: oh man YES i'm going to be the littlest shit ever here we go!!! #stiles: ok plot twist scary uncle hot...AND interesting #cora: STILES U PIECE OF SHIT I SAID FUCK WITH AS IN ANNOY NOT AS IN LITERALLY FUCKING!! #peter flustering stiles in exploding things? you know i love it!!!~~ #stiles: >:) hehe i am an evil lil man he will never guess what i am #stiles being exposed by fangs being too sexy: :O #peter: shit how to uhhhh woo???? someone?? how to Romance a person for REAL??? genuine feelings what do u do??? agsdfd2e';ek; #peter: um pancakes? pancakes is a thing and it's sweet and he likes sweet things?? #you KNOW peter definitely asked stiles to dress up as a werewolf again so that peter can roleplay being an alpha w stiles as his beta wolf #and then also stiles pretending to be an alpha wolf #peter like these sudden feelings?? its just the urgency to win a game. that is all. nothing more! #to be fair the man was sucker punched into maximum pining and yearning #ajshdfg dumbas putting on an overly fake smile of IDC so he doesnt seem dumb in his crush's presence ahkjfgjhkrtlg4tkjg SMOOTH MOVE THERE
> 
> If you're interested in more dumbasses in love, you can check out my tumblr [transtilinski](https://transtilinski.tumblr.com/) and you can reblog this [here!](https://transtilinski.tumblr.com/post/633580319626395648/so-i-wrote-a-thing-for-halloween-despite-missing)
> 
> Thank you for reading!! <3 Happy November! :)


End file.
